


Resurface With You

by darkerwings



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Grinding, Hair Braiding, Hand Jobs, M/M, Subspace, Where We Are Tour, lots of feel good stuff ft. my perpetual obsession with pet names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 17:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1574276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkerwings/pseuds/darkerwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pattern of it looks so soft and intricate, it’s lovely. Somehow he knows where this is heading before he’s even decided.</p><p>Or, the one where Harry feels dirty sometimes, and he wears a french braid onstage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resurface With You

**Author's Note:**

> I would just like to say right off the bat that this little bugger took me by surprise. I put off studying for my AP Psychology exam and ended up writing this in the span of about 24 hours. I proceeded to take said exam this morning and ended up feeling pretty good throughout it, so maybe this was my good luck charm, who even knows?
> 
> Thank you to my shining star, Emi, for always being my safety net, for keeping me in check at all hours of the night, and for beta'ing this on the fly. Thank you to Bea for encouraging me to post this even though I'm quite nervous about it. And last but not least, thank you to Marta, who inspired this with her [beautiful doodles](http://lepomiere.tumblr.com/post/84721939391/the-possibilities-are-endless-louteasdale)! (In this fic Harry has the one on the bottom right!)
> 
> I hope you all like it, even just a little? Big kisses from me to all of you. ♡ლ(╹ε╹ლ)
> 
>  **Some Reminders** : 1. This isn't meant to be taken as fact, it's fiction! Do **not** send this to the boys, or anyone even remotely close to them. 2. **Don't** repost my work and **don't** translate it (as far as translating goes, [here](http://darkerwings.tumblr.com/translating) is why I don't allow it) - I have my ways of looking through sites and finding my fics, and I have reported and gotten people kicked off for stealing my work before, I won't hesitate to do it again. 3. Thank you for clicking on whatever link brought you here, happy reading!

The idea of it comes to him naturally, and like most of the unexpected, wonderful things in Harry’s life, it just sort of happens.

He’s sitting backstage in Montevideo, taking a break in the air conditioning after having been laid out for a good part of the day. It isn’t often he just allows himself to settle in for the day; usually he likes to take advantage of wherever they’re at, because who knows when he’ll be here next? But he still has a slight bout of jet lag lingering in his system, so today he gave himself an out. His brain is a little sun fried and his skin is starting to pick up that golden brown shade that he’s been craving ever since they touched down in Bogota.

He isn’t complaining, though. How could he? The South American leg of the tour started off with a bang, and they’ve all hit the ground running at full speed. The countries they’re having the opportunity to see are _gorgeous_ , he can cross off Machu Picchu from his bucket list, which is insane, honestly. The set list is charged, their first show had left him reeling, singing with their rockier edge and having Josh using his full talent on the drums, Sandy taking the stadium through a whirlwind with _Little Black Dress_ and _Little White Lies_. It’s electric with Niall on guitar center stage and Zayn hitting his high note in _You and I_ with unbelievable consistency. Liam’s on an Instagram binge that’s got everyone on Twitter up in arms, and Harry’s gotten plenty of comments challenging him to see if he’ll try and keep up.  

Then there’s Louis, of course. Christ, where does he even begin with that? It’s a blessing to have the ability to rent out an entire floor, because when they had reunited at the hotel it was with Louis running down the corridor, catapulting himself into Harry’s arms, his legs wrapping around Harry’s hips and hugging him like an overgrown koala. Louis is always manic for the first few shows when they’re on tour, but he’d been on a whole new level, especially when it came time for _Strong_. In hindsight, Harry can say it was probably payback for him singing his heart out every time they run _Happily_ , he’s always hyped that he gets to hear the stadium ring with the lyrics he’s written for the boy he loves. Louis had turned his back on the crowd to take a drink from his water bottle just beforehand, had turned his head just enough to catch Harry’s eye. He’d winked before pivoting to face a sea of swaying lights, all ready to sing along to a song Louis had written just for him. His boyfriend, the perpetual tease.

So it’s been a wild ride for all of them, and every time he steps out onto that stage all he can think is how in the hell did he get so lucky. The fans greet them like they’re coming home, and all it took was one bra to the balls to feel he was right back in the thick of it.

He’s sat with Lou and Lux now, feeling sentimental and a bit off his head. He’s flipping through a coloring book of princess hairstyles that Lux has almost finished as a rickety rotating fan chugs along, drying the sweat on his forehead. It must be sun, the heat, or something. Normally, he could blame it on Louis for making him unsteady, but that isn’t an option now, with Louis off skating in the spare lot and working out with the boys.

“Alright, bee bop, pick a band, then,” Lou instructs, holding out an antique looking teacup filled with colorful scrunchies and hair ties. Some of them have butterfly bobbles on the ends of the strings, some are holiday themed, and Harry thinks they’re all cute. Lux is sitting in the V of Lou’s legs, cooling off in a romper with all kinds of different patches sewn on to cover the rips in the worn-soft denim. Harry recognizes a square of material from one of his old Nirvana shirts and smiles. Her hair is french braided and curled into a bun so it’s off of her sweaty neck and the pattern of it looks so soft and intricate, it’s lovely. Somehow he knows where this is heading before he’s even decided.

“This one, Mums,” Lux tells her, picking out a neon green one with sparkly glitter flaking off.

Lou sighs, and Harry can see the inner struggle of a woman who has top of the line hair products at her disposal, but also consecutively can’t say no to the way her daughter’s face is lit up. “Loose or tight, bubs?”

“Loose, no more snags, Mums,” Lux decides with a nod. She crosses her arms jerkily and puts on a pout, trying to hide her smile when Harry pulls a face at her. The top of her braid goes a bit frazzled.

“Why do they call it a french braid anyway?” He decides that now is his chance and tries to keep his voice neutral, knowing all too well the whiney tone it takes when he wants something but isn’t sure how to ask. He aims for casual and fiddles with the hem of his tank top, it’s a little tight on him because it’s one of Louis’ baggier ones. If Lou is going to give him shit about this later, he might as well strike when she’s weakest.

Lou waits until he finally looks up again, and raises an eyebrow as she secures a few of Lux’s stray strands. Let the record show that Harry Styles has never been praised for his subtlety.   

 ~*~

“Bro, that is sick,” Liam’s voice calls. He feels his lips curl into a smile, he _had_ been somewhat nervous about it.

It takes him a minute to come out of his own headspace, he’s been fiddling with the tail of the braid ever since Lou put it in. After he’d finished chatting with Caroline, he’d pulled his phone out and leaned against the wall, opening a game of Tiny Wings but his eyes had just glazed over.

“Yeah, you think?” He blinks a few times and turns him, pocketing his phone and dropping his hand from his hair, inwardly scolding himself.

“Yeah, mate, did Lou do it for you?” Liam asks as Zayn and Niall go charging around the corner, heading to get their mics.

He reaches up and runs his fingers over the weaving of the braid, he loves the way a few of the angel hairs by his crown peek out. Lou did it so it arches across his head like a tiara, almost, starting where his hair naturally parts on his left. Even though he’s been letting his curls grow out for a good few months, he still has to tuck the tail of behind his ear, not quite long just yet. It’s tied off with a pastel pink elastic band, and he loves the way that it's his little secret. He likes the way it keeps it out of his eyes like one of his silk headscarves would, but without having to adjust it every so often. He likes the way it pulls at his scalp slightly. He just loves it, period.

“Yeah, she was doing it for Lux, so I figured why not.” He just shrugs, like it doesn’t mean anything.

“Wish I woulda thought of that back when I had mine grown out, genius.”

Harry just shrugs again as he takes a drink of water. He usually isn’t bashful about style options, he just wears what he likes and goes about his own business, but the braid makes him feel like blushing and squirming in a way that he hasn’t felt in a while. He presses his lips together in a tight line, knowing what it all means but not quite ready to admit it to himself yet.

“We’ve got ten until stage!” a crew member with an earpiece in tells them as she walks past.

He thanks her and Liam nods the way forward.

“How was it with Jarvis?” he asks as they head towards the stage, taking a turn down one last hallway. “Zayn said we’re starting up boxing again?”

“Yeah! You’ll have to have Louis tell you about it tonight, we got those new gloves you were chatting about and he joined us after he was finished with his run.” Liam elbows him. “The Gun Show lives on.”

The Gun Show would be referring to the age old competition between Liam and Louis over whose biceps are more impressive. Louis’s always been competitive about his arms, back when they were still just flirting he would try and claim he was Popeye minus the need for spinach. Lately he’s been more focused on his legs, though, training for footie and hell, if Harry had thought his thighs were strong before he had no idea what was coming. Or how easily _he’d_ be coming, for that matter. He snorts a laugh and shakes his head at the ground.

“Ni, cool it with the jumping around, alright?” Zayn’s saying when they walk into the stage-side dressing room. “Gonna give me a heart attack.”

“I’m just saying, what if for _Better Than Words_ we bring it out to the end of the catwalk for a bit longer?” Niall is apparently insistant. “My knee’ll be fine, Z.” Louis has his back to them and he’s knelt down to fuss with his shoelace, Zayn is scratching at his scruff and flipping his mic in hand, rolling his eyes.

“We can see about it, but remember how cramped we were for time when thought about that in Buenos Aires?” Louis answers, and even just going a few hours since seeing him this morning Harry feels himself relax, nerves ebbing slightly just from hearing him. Liam goes to get a bottle of water and they all start to huddle in their pre-show circle without even thinking about it – it’s muscle memory.

There aren’t any cameras backstage at this show besides Cal’s, and Harry can see him over with one of the security team leaders. So he comes up behind Louis as he stands and places a hand on his hip, pressing a kiss to his temple and trying to keep his voice even. “Hi, babe.”

He can feel Louis relax into him, can feel the line of his spine ease under his palm. It’s amazing that they can still do this for one another, that just simple touches and words can take the edge off. Louis’ hand moves to cover his where it’s resting and he turns to look up at him.

“Hi.” Louis presses a quick kiss to his lips, smiling at him briefly before looking up. Harry gulps shallowly. He _knows_ Louis won’t show a dislike for it, that’s just the kind of security that comes with being together as long as they have. He has some credit in the bank because he hasn’t given Louis any shit about his quiet uptake of wearing headbands, but it isn’t just about that. He still feels like an idiot when he gets like this.

“Harry, are you–” Louis’ voice is quiet around the question of it. His eyes are darkening as they take in the blush that’s creeping up Harry’s cheeks. Harry can feel his stomach tightening because fuck, okay, Louis likes it and it’s evident in the way his smaller hand is pressed against the small of his back with some bite. It doesn’t even matter that he’s about to wear it like this out in front of tens of thousands of people, Louis’ opinion always matters most. After a lingering moment, Louis shakes himself out of it and takes stock of the way Harry’s fidgeting with the hem of his henley, the way he’s chewing his lip and not quite meeting his eyes. “Do you feel…?”

He breathes out a long, shaky breath, closes his eyes, and nods.

“Hey, hey.” Louis’ voice immediately softens, his demeanor shifting right before Harry’s eyes, shoulders straightening and chin jutting out slightly. He looks twice as big as he had before, even as he gently scratches up and down Harry’s back. “You’re all good, babe.” He links their fingers together and bring Harry’s knuckles up to his lips. “You look so lovely.”

Harry rests his head over Louis’ and breathes out again, taking in the smell of him and relaxing a bit more, cinnamon and clean laundry. “Hate when I get all, like this-”

“None of that.” Louis shakes his head, leaning up to kiss his jaw and Harry is so glad that their crew is preoccupied, that he’s able to feel private for just a minute. “Gonna make you all clean when we get back to the hotel, gonna make you feel all warm, okay? Just gotta make it through this first, I know you can.” Another kiss, this one on his lips. “You look so beautiful, babe. I love how it looks on you.”

Harry believes him, which is a sign of progress that he’s been patting himself back on in his more recent times like this. He hugs Louis close and hunches slightly to burrow into his neck for just a moment, taking one last steadying breath. “Yeah, I, I can.”

They both realize at about the same time that they’re causing a bit of a holdup. Niall’s distracted by one of the crew coming over to fix his collar quickly, and Liam is peeking onstage and taking a sneaky shot of the crowd, using what looks to be the Toaster filter. Rookie choice, if he does say so himself. Zayn’s got his eyebrows raised at them in mild concern. The energy is an odd mix of their usual countdown madness along with the tension he and Louis have just thrown in. Harry sorts himself out, right now isn’t about him, he can deal with himself later. There’s a stadium full of people chanting their names only twenty or so paces from where they’re huddled, they’re gonna get out there and do what they do best.

Right, okay.

The crowd safety video starts up out in the stadium and they do their traditional group chant and facial warm-ups, with Louis taking the piss out of Liam for the way his eyebrow almost gets stuck at a awkward slant. Harry can feel the heel of his palm digging into his back the whole time, tension being replaced by a small bubble of excitement.

As they step into places Louis rushes up to him and stands on his tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Don’t take it out.”

Harry watches as he hurries back, and he's fiddling with the band tucked behind his ear, twirling the little curl between his thumb and index fingers. He bites his lip and turns to get ready, excitement growing at the memory of the lust in Louis’ eyes.

 ~*~

Once they get going, Harry flies through song after song, feeling like a man possessed.

There are two girls with braids in their hair in the front row who, when Harry passes them, hold theirs out and point between them and him. He traces his fingers over his own and sends them a cheesy smile, as it’s the best he can do as he feels another blush coming on. There’s a boy towards the back of the section he’s in front of during _C’mon C’mon_ with a light-up poster that reads _Harry we love your mane!_ with a drawing of a lion with his face smack in the middle. He laughs just before his verse comes in and almost misses it, he sends him a thumbs up before turning on his heel to strut back to stage right.

Niall comments on it during one of their talking breaks. He siddles up beside him, holding his mic like an interviewer. Harry’s already grinning from seeing Louis catch a stuffed animal right out of thin air.

“Well, well, folks. Here’s Harold, say hello, Harold!”

Harry just fits his hand over Niall’s on the mic. “Hiiiiiii.”

Niall laughs, because of course he does. “Everybody say ‘Hi, Harry!’”

The whole stadium echoes it back to them and he definitely has no idea how this is his job.

“So Harold, I love what you’ve done with your ‘do!”

Harry smiles out at all the lights, absentmindedly running his fingers over the pattern of it. Liam and Zayn and messing about with a stuffed teddy bear someone threw onstage, out of the corner of his eye he thinks he sees them taking a selfie with it. Maybe it’s time for an intervention. Anything to distract him from the statement at hand.

“Ah, yeah, I uh.”

“It’s a new one on you, yeah?” Niall bops him in the nose with the mic this time, either seeing that he’s hit a nerve or just plain goofing off. “I quite like it.”

“God’s sake, Niall, is this what all these people came here to see?” he hears Louis say as he comes up behind them to clap Niall on the shoulder and give him a pointed look. “Might as well book you both a room at the Honeymoon Inn, if you plan on keeping it up.”

Harry feels a shiver run over him, knowing that Louis is trying to deflect some of the attention Harry doesn’t want onto himself. He also knows that it’s a jealousy thing, which only serves to make his stomach jump with anticipation. He thinks he’s okay to answer now, though.

“I um,” he says, talking into his own mic and feeling his face heat up with the hottest blush he’s felt all night. His voice is deeper than normal, as it usually is when he’s squirmy. “I just like it.”

After that, it’s just accepted. Harry becomes more and more comfortable with it as they make their way through each song. Louis is still honed in on him, as it turns out. When it comes time for his solo in _Through the Dark_ he stares straight at Harry with the same dark eyes as earlier until Zayn eventually pretends to sneak up on him, only to poke him in the cheek. Harry feels like he’s drowning with no direction of which way is up.

By the time they get through _Alive_ he’s half hard in his jeans, excitement from earlier taking action now. Louis keeps finding ways to get to him and it’s torture. A wink over his shoulder, swaying his hips, running a hand down his torso and feeling himself up. It all serves as a heady distraction from the itch under his skin and they need to be back at the hotel _now_.

During his solo for _What Makes You Beautiful_ he focuses his gaze just below the spotlight and closes his eyes briefly to allow himself to just hear the sound of his voice. Because that’s routine, that’s normal.

He’s trying to calm himself down and keep it in check, but it’s somewhat difficult with a pint’s worth of adrenaline pumping through your veins and all the music you know by heart reverberating through your bones. Sleeping kittens, his Nan in a bikini, Niall eating a sloppy joe, he tries it all but nothing can keep his thoughts from slingshotting right back to Louis.

When they go to take their final bows together, he feels Louis reach over and squeeze his bum firmly and that’s it. He’s blushing and squirming all the way offstage.

~*~

Louis’s got him spread out across the canvas of their king size hotel bedspread. Harry’s legs are hitched up around his hips as the rest of him is flat on his back. Louis’s lazily grinding against his arse as he kisses Harry’s neck just how he likes it.

“Fuck, Haz.” Louis’ voice is hushed into his skin. “Everyone in the whole damn stadium couldn’t keep their eyes off of you, like the rest of us weren’t even there.”

“Not, _mmpf_.” He attempts to protest but he’s so overrun by everything. “Not true.”

Louis  arches himself so that he’s able to lap at one of Harry’s nipples. He can’t keep himself from digging his nails into his palms and working his hips back on Louis’ dick. Jesus, he feels so good. It’s usually Harry doing a good share of the work. Louis always falls apart so beautifully for him, and he loves being the only one Louis trusts enough to fully let go with, loves knowing that he’s the only one who has ever made him crumble like that. Tonight, however, and other night’s like this one, aren’t about topping or taking.

“Was so hard to keep my hands off of you.” Louis kisses back up his sternum. He grinds into him with more intent than before. “You were glowing, like the lights couldn’t get enough of you. Look so pretty, babe. Always so, so pretty.”

Harry’s braid has long since started falling out, he can feel the soft tendrils of it brushing against his temples, but he doesn’t have the focus to care. He’s still riding a high from being onstage. As soon as they’d gotten in the car to head back Louis had been on him, pulling him into his lap so that Harry was straddling him in the far back seat. Even with Liam and Zayn in bucket seats and Niall riding shotgun, all he could do was feel it. He had been pulling his hair, kissing up his neck, and grinding down onto Louis’ then fully hardened cock and pleading for him to _do something_. Paul had just turned up the radio, which had been a local station because Niall wanted to immerse them in the culture or something. Harry’s brain had turned it all into white noise, his attention had been fully targeted on Louis palming him through his jeans and whispering filthy things into his neck.

“Lou,” he whines, increasingly desperate.

Louis takes care to quickly pull off his boxer-briefs, flinging them off somewhere distant. So now it’s only Harry’s bare arse and Louis’ clothed cock and he’s already climbing, feeling like he’s been heading towards a peak ever since Lou finished pleating the damned thing into place. He grips Louis’ biceps and moans breathily as he feels Louis’ teeth graze the sensitive area of skin behind his ear.

“Haven’t seen you want it this bad in so long, baby.”

“Just wanted to,” he gasps as he feels the head of Louis’ cock drag over his hole. He feels the entire expanse of his skin flush hot and he’s breathing so heavily now. “Wanted to feel pretty, wanted to feel nice.”

“I know, baby.” Louis leans forward enough to give Harry’s cock some much needed friction. “Gonna make you feel so nice, won’t feel dirty t’all.”

Ah, and there it is.

So the deal is is that this isn’t a regular thing. It happens maybe a few times a year, Harry will get this itching under his skin, the need to feel clean and pure and _good_. The first time Louis had seen him get like this had been just after they’d moved in together. Louis had come home to him lighting five different brands of vanilla candles and filling up a bubblebath with all the lights in the flat turned low. They’ve never tried to define it, but Louis always handles it so well, knows just how to touch and soothe him until all he can feel is _loved_.

They’ve talked it through on many of the different occasions that it’s popped up, and they’ve both done research on what it means and how to take care of Harry when he feels like this. It’s more under control now that’s gone through it so many time before.

For instance, going through the concert tonight, that wouldn’t have even been an option for him two years ago. Conveniently, back then he’d only felt dirty during their time off. (Minus their Red or Black performance.) Because he can feel when it’s creeping up on him, he can prepare for it, in a way. He doesn’t always like to label it, and it still scares him sometimes, but he always tries to remember the way Louis comforts him, that always helps him through.

They’ve come up empty handed when it comes to figuring out what it exactly stems from. Louis always tells him it’s because he’s so strong all the rest of the time, that maybe even he needs a bit of time to regress. With Louis, he can handle the day’s worth of time he typically spends feeling this way. Hell, Louis even turns it around for him, makes him feel beautiful and special and wanted all at once.

“Love you so much.” Louis kisses into his skin, along his jaw until he pecks him at the lips, only to deepen it a moment later. “You’re so lovely, so, so wonderful, honest.”

“Love you, too,” he answers, rolling his hips, feeling the steady coil in his gut beginning to unwind. “Always know how to, how to look after me.”

“Of course, Haz,” Louis says, sounding like anything else would be immoral. Harry thinks he’s the most beautiful person there could ever be.

“Trust you,” he manages to whisper, feeling his cock twitch at Louis’ movements.

Louis nips at his lips, rolling into him with a smooth curl of his hips. “So beautiful with your hair like that. Get to see your pretty eyes so much easier.”

Harry whimpers and Louis reaches down to finally, _finally_ , get a hand on his cock, jerking him slowly in contrast to the snap of his hips. His breath is coming in shorter huffs now.

“Can’t believe you’re–” Louis gets caught up in circling his hips counterclockwise as he catches Harry’s reaction, legs kicking out and thighs shaking. His other hand has a steady grip on Harry’s left side, right over his laurel tattoo. “Can’t believe you’re mine.”

“Not dirty?” Harry asks, quiet as he can.

“No, no, not t’all.” He kisses Harry deep and tightens his grip on his thighs, Louis grinds into him slow and deep, and Harry feels his cheeks clench greedily around him. Louis knows him well enough to understand that he needs it like this, quick and fast and good.

“Fuck,” Harry’s voice breaks, and Louis’ thrusts are coming quicker again, his hand working Harry’s cock so well. Louis’ thumb catches over his head and Harry feels electricity shoot through his fingertips and he gasps.

“God, I think I could come from just this.” Harry whines at the edge his voice has taken, back arching more and more. “You’re close, aren’t you, baby?”

“Ye-yeah, Lou, _god_.” He’s squirming so much now, just trying to meet Louis’ hips but his rhythm is failing. “Pull on it, pull the-”

Louis doesn’t even have to hear it all to know, he just sneaks a hand up under the nape of Harry’s neck, winding his fingers in tangles of the braid and then _yanks_. That, along with a perfectly timed thrust has him losing his breath, overcome with relief and bliss as rocks his hips up and comes with a high whine, cock spurting over his abs, dribbling over Louis’ fingers that are still working him through it.

Louis’ firm grip on his hair tightens as he fucks up against Harry with erratic thrusts. The headboard bangs against the wall, and he can’t remember if it’s one of the boys or part of the crew that’s next door, but Harry’s still caught up in his own head, where everything is clean and nice and Louis. His legs tighten around Louis, afraid to let go and he can feel the shiver that runs over Louis’ skin as he finally releases, burrowing his face in Harry’s neck as huffs out Harry’s name on stilted breath.

They lay together just like that for a while, Louis’ hands scratching Harry’s scalp and sharing quiet whispers. Louis’ hips twitch every now and then with a lingering aftershock, and Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever understand how he can be the one to do that for him.

“Did so well, babe. You were perfect for me.” Louis’ other hand soothes up and down his side, and maybe he’s still a bit floaty, but it feels so nice and he would preen if he could. He always knows just what to say. “So, so lovely. You’re all clean and good, Hazza.”

Harry hums and feels a weak smile play at his lips. Louis leans in and kisses his eyelids, his forehead, his nose. “You with me, baby?”

It doesn’t take him all that long, but eventually he does nod.

“Good boy, how do you feel?”

“Mmm,” is all he can muster at first. “M’good. Warm and nice. Love you, Lou.”

“Love you, too, so much.” Louis tells him, kissing his forehead again, and then his temple before reaching to grab a wet wipe from their bedside table. Harry watches him through heavy eyes as he warms it in his hands before carefully cleaning them both up. He loves him so much.

“Love you.” He repeats himself. “Sleepy.”

Louis smiles down at him softly with a warmth in his eyes that has the last dregs of that itch under his skin melting away. “Alright, babe. Sleep time now.” He snuggles in around Harry’s longer frame, all wrapped around him and Harry feels so safe. “Love you, too. Always will.”

They settle and he thinks maybe it isn’t just something for when he feels dirty, he really does like it, and likes that way Louis’ fingers are still tangled in it now even more. Sleep takes him easily, and he doesn’t need to be conscious to know that he’ll be asking if he’s got it long enough for a fishtail first thing in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! It always brightens my day to see what ya'al think, so if you have a minute, kudos and comments are very much appreciated. If you liked this you can follow me on tumblr as darkerwings and @darkerwings on twitter to keep up with all my shenanigans. I don't bite, so come say hello some time.


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